


I Promise To Always Come Home To You

by dorkpatroller



Series: How To Serve (Laslow lets Xander bang him to unwind) [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Porn with Feelings, SEX!, and being carried around, it's part of his manhandled aesthetic, laslow likes being told what to do, reunited after a while
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 11:18:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10333466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorkpatroller/pseuds/dorkpatroller
Summary: Laslow is back, finally, from his mission. He goes out of his way to visit Xander, because he has missed him pretty desperately. It turns out, Xander has missed him just as much.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of falls under the same verse as I Want To Know What Love Is. Xander and Laslow fuck around a lot but they're not strictly in an official relationship. Or any relationship. Porn as a CELEBRATION because my friend finally summoned Laslow in FE Heroes. This was supposed to be <2000 words. Oops.

There’s something distinctly unsettling about being away from his liege. Laslow has been serving Lord Xander since he came to Nohr, through war and still after… but he cannot recall a time when he was apart from him for this long. He cannot recall a time when he was apart from him for an extended time at all since they began their little trysts.

 

Peri is the one who was meant to take this mission. Lord Leo needed to make a journey to Izumo to settle some relations after the war, and Xander offered one of his retainers to make the journey easier. Peri jumped at the chance, but she fell ill the morning of, and Xander sent Laslow in her stead.

 

Laslow can remember the odd look on Xander’s face when he saw them off. Though their relationship was, and is, a secret… he seemed very hesitant to let Laslow go. He clasped his hand on Laslow’s shoulder and it was warm… ah, Laslow is sure he can still feel that heat even now.

 

Or perhaps it is the steam drifting up from the teapot.

 

It has been five weeks since he has seen his liege and lover, but Laslow is home in Windmire. Early. When he arrived, he bathed, found himself clean clothes, and then went to check that a maid had taken Xander his tea for the evening. It is late… Peri is likely dismissed for the day. The whole of the castle is preparing for bed and retiring for the evening… but the maid says Xander has refused his tea again and so Laslow decides it is the perfect excuse to see himself into Xander’s room.

 

He carries the tray in both of his hands and his steps are quiet in the halls. His clothes are casual; it seems frivolous to put on armor when he is simply taking tea to his liege before bed. He knocks at the door to Xander’s quarters, but he does not wait for a response. With anyone else Xander might be likely to scold them for entering without permission but… Laslow imagines he can get away with it. He often does.

 

Xander’s study is the first room of his chambers. It is large, his desk is pushed to one side of it and a wall is lined with dusty old books and maps. He has drawers and drawers of papers and parchments, old treaties, old declarations. Things that have been in this country and this family for years. To the opposite wall there is a large arch shaped doorway that leads out to a large, private balcony. There is a hanging garden there, one with plants Laslow still isn’t sure he understands, that grow in the darkness and produce flowers pale and beautiful.

 

And in the corner, there is an armchair. Not quite a throne it is still magnificent, and well cushioned. Beside it there is a small, tall table. Xander sits in this chair to do things recreational. He drinks his tea here, sometimes, or reads a book. It is rare to see him there, relaxing, but it is a good feeling. Laslow takes the tray in his hands to that table, and sets it down. There is a silver tea pot, there, and a glass that he turns right-side up and pours the tea into it, whether Xander wants it or not.

 

Xander is at his desk, and he is silent. Laslow hums his greeting while he pours. “Good evening, Milord. A lovely little maid told me you've been refusing your tea. I've brought it in hopes you might change your mind.”

 

Laslow glances up from the tea when he's through pouring. Xander is standing, behind his desk.

 

Oh, Laslow missed him so much. He would be so easy to reach out and touch right now, but he does not. In fact, he sets down the teapot and steps to the side of the table so he is no longer blocking it.

 

Xander’s stare makes him somewhat nervous. Why is he so quiet? Perhaps this was a bad time? “Lord Leo sent me ahead. He will be returning home within two days’ time. He sends word of his success.”

 

Xander walks closer. Laslow watches him and finds that he's unable to truly look away from that look in his eyes. There's _something strange_ about it. It almost looks predatory. Laslow thinks his heart starts beating faster.

 

He doesn't stop approaching or staring until he is standing just in front of Laslow. He is still silent. Laslow clears his throat. “Y-You know, Milord, it was Midori who created this blend for you, to help you sleep and ease your stress. I've seen it work…”

 

He is met with a frown. Laslow hesitates. Xander says “Laslow.”

 

“Er… _Yes,_ Milord...?”

 

Xander takes a step closer. The only problem with that is there is no space left for him to step. Laslow takes a step back. “Did you really think,” Xander says while he steps forward again. Laslow steps back again, and again, until his legs hit the armchair and he stumbles. He falls back onto the seat and Xander braces his hands on the arms of the chair. He looms over Laslow until his heart is drumming in his chest and his breath starts to come out uneven. “...that you might walk in here as if nothing has changed?”

 

“H-Has something changed...?” Laslow asks. His voice is a little weak but he doesn’t falter. He maintains Xander’s stare, even if it nearly kills him.

 

Xander lifts one of his hands and he reaches out. Laslow hates to admit that he nearly winces, but he is met with the gentle touch of Xander’s hand in his hair. “M-Milord...?” He asks. He looks into his eyes but then Xander’s touch turns less gentle, he pulls at Laslow’s hair to force him to tilt his head just right. Laslow’s eyes barely close before Xander’s lips are crushing against his, familiar and wonderful but oh, so strange after a month without. It feels like it has been ages.

 

Laslow whimpers out a tiny sound into that rough kiss. He doesn’t think he wants it to ever end. The kiss, of course, does end… and Laslow is left panting and waiting to hear what his liege has to say.

 

“I’ve missed you, Laslow. You are no longer permitted to go on long missions without me.” Xander says. Laslow might protest if he was in his right mind. He is his retainer; he is meant to fulfill duties like petty errands and long travels but… He doesn’t protest, because all he can wrap his head around is that Xander missed him so desperately that he is forbidding him to leave again.

 

He does love it, to some strange degree, when his lord is so possessive of him. It’s a guilty pleasure when he sees a flash of dominance or jealousy flash in Xander’s eyes. It’s even more guilty when it happens over a lady Laslow is flirting with, and it is even more of a pleasure when Xander reminds Laslow, later that night, where his loyalties truly lie.

 

“Milord I would never leave this room if you asked it of me,” Laslow’s words come out in a rush before he is kissed again. Perhaps that is an exaggeration, but he wouldn’t be opposed to hearing it. He wouldn’t mind it if Xander were to demand that he stay.

 

…And perhaps he is rewarded for his own filthy thoughts because Xander kisses him deeper, brings his hand down to hold Laslow’s jaw. He touches him gently, guides his mouth open, and then Xander kisses him long and hard and his tongue is hot and heavy against Laslow’s. Oh, how Laslow missed this. Heat pools in his groin and a shudder runs through him. Could his prince have offer him a better homecoming? Impossible.

 

Their kisses are fire and Laslow thinks _he’s_ getting rather warm, too, but he has no desire at all to stop. He shifts his arms until they come to rest wrapped snug around Xander’s shoulders. He uses them to drag the prince down further…. And Xander does give him his way, but only, it seems, to push Laslow’s knees apart. He lays his palm heavy over his groin and Laslow has forgotten his shame. (For Xander, Laslow forgot his shame a long time ago.) He thrusts his hips up and ruts his growing hardness into Xander’s hand—he certainly _should_ see what he’s done to him in such a short period.

 

It is without mercy that Xander meets that tiny thrust and gropes him, rubs Laslow’s cock rough through the fabric. It’s thin, truly, but Laslow thinks it’s far too many layers between their skin. He sucks in a breath and trails his lips away from Xander’s mouth. He kisses past his cleanly shaven jaw, down his neck as far as his clothes will allow….

 

…and when he can kiss no further, he whines. A pathetic noise, and he’s about to back it up with words but Xander shifts. Laslow blinks away his confusion. He’s not sure why Xander’s arm is under his legs until he is lifted, and he’s grasping tighter at the fabric of the shirt he was just cursing. “M-Milord!”

 

“Hush.” Xander says to him. Laslow closes his mouth. He doesn’t mind being hushed, in fact he thinks there is something distinctly (horribly?) attractive about this. He hates to admit it out loud, but he does, quite a lot, enjoy being pushed around by his liege. Perhaps because he knows that Xander will never push him too far? Perhaps because he almost wants to be pushed too far.

 

“Did you know,” Xander says while he carries Laslow towards the back of his chambers. “how your absence has affected me?” They move through a door, into his bedroom. It’s darker, lit with candles. His bed is canopied with heavy red curtains, with an inner row of more sheer, black fabric. His room is large and always clean because he spends all his time in his study.

 

“A cruel man asks for silence and then asks questions.” Laslow answers. Xander snorts, and in response he is not very graceful where he drops Laslow onto his sheets. The landing is soft. Laslow gasps, but he is met with silky blankets and pillows and a bed soft enough that his exhaustion catches up and he nearly thinks he could sleep. That is, if he was not thoroughly more interested in making up for lost time with his liege, and in doing something about his desperate arousal.

 

“I found it to be eerily quiet without you here.” Xander says. Laslow has the decency to blush when Xander begins to disrobe him, beginning with his shoes and working quickly to remove his trousers, too. He hesitates where he removes the belt.

 

“Am I very loud, Milord?” Laslow asks in a voice soft with curiosity.

 

“You are loud in all that you do,” Xander says. “You are loud in the way you invite yourself into my room, in the way you force me to take my tea time, and even in the way you look at me across the room when you think I cannot see. While you were away I realized the position that you hold has become something much more than that of a mere retainer.”

 

Laslow’s brows come together. This conversation seems very serious, but here Xander is, peeling away his clothes. It is when Xander is plucking open the buttons of Laslow’s shirt that he asks, “What position is it that I hold then, Milord?”

 

Xander smiles and pushes the shirt back and off Laslow’s shoulders. Very slowly, deliberately slowly, he leans forward and presses a hot kiss against Laslow’s collar bone. “I am in love with you, Laslow. Perhaps from the moment I laid eyes on you, but I am certain of it now.”

 

Oh.

 

Laslow’s heart does several hundred backflips and his stomach twists up because he’s not sure what Xander can possibly mean by that. He loves him, of course. That is what Xander means. He means that he is in love with Laslow.

 

Laslow is in love with him too! He’s so happy, his heart is overflowing with it, but he’s scared. He’s scared for what admitting their love out loud means for them, and for his liege, and for his kingdom. “M-Milord, I—!”

 

Xander lays his thumb overtop Laslow’s lips. Laslow, in turn, stops talking… and then Xander uses his thumb to brush along his bottom lip, and then along Laslow’s jaw. “Before you attempt to dissuade me, or to point out any flaws you may find… know that I have already considered these issues, Laslow. I do not want to hear you remind me of why it is wrong of me to love you. So please,” Xander pauses to make eye contact, to make quite certain Laslow is listening, “instead, perhaps, tell me what I _do want_ to hear.”

 

“I love you, too.” Laslow breathes it out and only just barely before the last of his clothes are taken from him and Xander is upon him, pulling at his hair and kissing and dropping his hand down to tug at Laslow’s erection. The result is a cry of a moan into Xander’s mouth. Laslow is overwhelmed.

 

He has loved Xander for so long, has wanted to be the one to hold his heart, and now he is. Now he is sure, he doesn’t just suspect. Xander loves him. His prince and liege and lover, and he wants him. He wants _Laslow_ , who is by all means unworthy of it… but he is thrilled.

 

With each touch Xander lays over him Laslow burns hotter for him. His cock twitches in the air and precum gathers at his slit… and Xander, the prince of Nohr, leans down to lick it from him. Laslow is most certainly spoiled. So spoiled that Xander drags his tongue over the head of Laslow’s cock and then along his length, and then he stops.

 

He just stops, and Laslow can feel him staring. He can feel Xander’s eyes staring at him, watching, deciding what to do next. Will he torture him? Laslow’s cock pulses. When he makes his liege jealous he is always punished in the best ways. Brought to orgasm and then denied, but he is always given his pleasure in the end. He is always shown just how much better than anyone else Xander can be, and is, for him.

 

Of course, Laslow has not done anything wrong. Surely, Laslow thinks, that must be what is going through Xander’s mind. Xander is the one who sent him away, Xander is the one who assigned him that task. His eyes soften and Xander leans down to kiss the inside of Laslow’s thigh. It is gentle, and then he moves to reach for the drawer pull of his bedside table. Laslow’s heart starts racing again, this time in anticipation. It is anticipation that grows when he uncorks the vial of oil. Laslow spreads his legs wider. Xander pours a generous bit of oil over his fingers.

 

Laslow has been away from his liege for over a month. He has missed this, he has grown unused to it, and so when Xander’s finger prods and then penetrates his entrance he finds the feeling brand new. He thinks back to their first time.

 

Their love story, he knows, has not always been romantic. He was never meant to love Xander like this, only to ease some of his tension. Xander was never meant to fall for him, either. Their first time was awkward and Laslow lost his virginity to a man he had simple feelings for, but as a sexual favor, not as a lover. The transition happened long before, and… Well Laslow knows they have been in love with each other in silence for far longer than they should have.

 

A soft moan escapes him. Xander stretches him to add his second finger. He’s taking his time; he’s being slow and gentle… but then he twists his wrist just right and Laslow’s hips buck.

 

…and then it is no longer slow or gentle.

 

It becomes ragged. It becomes wild and untamed and Laslow’s breath starts to leave him while Xander fucks into him with his fingers, while he curls them just so, and even more so when he provides little, if any, warning when he adds his third finger. He is open and ready and willing for Xander.

 

“Please,” He pants it out. “Please, Milord, I…” Laslow hesitates. Maybe because he isn’t sure what to say. Partly, for sure, because Xander leans so close Laslow can feel his breath on his ear when he whispers to him.

 

“Would you come for me, Laslow, just like this?” Xander asks. Laslow whimpers out a noise. Something like a pathetic moan. He squeezes his eyes shut and, timidly, nods his head. Yes. He could come like this. He wouldn’t even hate it.

 

“Is that what you would like?” Xander asks.

 

Yes. Oh, yes. Laslow would very much like for Xander to keep pushing him to his limits like this, but… but what he’s missed all this time is something more. Laslow shakes his head, and he begs. “No, please, Milord… Please, I need you.”

 

Xander withdraws his fingers but Laslow is very optimistic he is only preparing to give him exactly what he’s asked for. In the meantime, he can hear the cork being pulled again, and he can hear Xander hum his approval.

 

There are times when his prince does not entirely undress. Now is one such time, for he has only just opened the clasp of his belt and pushed the band of his slacks down his legs. His shirt is still very much in place, too, but Laslow has none of it. He reaches for the hem and pulls… and remarkably Xander does not argue, and he allows for Laslow to pull the shirt over his head.

 

Laslow has only just begun to rake his fingernails along Xander’s back when he can feel the head of his thick cock met with his entrance. Perhaps he is waiting for Laslow to prepare? If he is at all waiting on Laslow’s behalf, he is obviously clueless as to just how desperately Laslow has needed him.

 

Laslow digs his fingernails deep into Xander’s back, and Xander pushes himself into Laslow. He sinks in slow until his hips meet the back of Laslow’s thighs… and Laslow sighs something slow and content. How he has missed this… Xander is so close to him like this. He is laid over him and breathing near his neck… he nibbles and nips at Laslow’s ear, and that is when Laslow truly begins to lose himself, and to drown in his lover. He lifts his own legs and winds them around Xander’s hips. He uses his legs to pull him closer. Xander pulls his hips back slowly. He’s gentle where he doesn’t have to be, where Laslow doesn’t _want him to be_. Because he cares, because he knows they’ve been apart.  

 

Does Xander love him? Laslow still thinks it may be too good to be true. He loves his liege so much, has loved him for so long… he has suspected Xander had feelings for him as well, but… it still feels like a dream. Laslow tilts his head to the side unprompted when Xander begins to suck and kiss at his neck. He arches his back and tries to bask in this treatment. Xander’s touches are so gentle and so calm… and Laslow’s heartbeat feels slow and easy. “I love you so much, Lord Xander,” he repeats. He wants to say it out loud several hundred times. He needs to hear it out loud just as many, so he knows it is real.

 

Perhaps Xander feels the same? His kisses are lighter when he says “I love you as well, Laslow.”

 

Ah, it feels just as wonderful to hear it as Laslow thought it might. Once it is said, however… that is when Laslow attacks. He waits until Xander withdraws his hips again, but then he uses the force of his own legs to pull him back down hard. Xander gasps, a tiny noise Laslow hardly even recognizes. When he looks down and sets his gaze to Laslow’s, that is when Laslow adds “I’ve _missed this_.”

 

It is no longer slow. Xander seems to register the message. Laslow wants more. He reacts by pushing back on Laslow’s leg. Just one, he pushes it closer to Laslow’s chest. His other leg slides lazily down to hook over the prince’s hip.

 

The breath is ripped from his chest. Xander snaps his hips hard. Fast. Deep. It’s everything that he asked for and more. With each thrust Laslow’s back scoots up the bed just a bit. Laslow moans with it, he wouldn’t have it any other way. Xander loves him, and if Laslow focuses on that and this pleasure he can almost forget just how poisonous he is, for Xander. He can pretend their relationship isn’t quite so problematic.

 

Xander moans deep near Laslow’s ear and he shudders. “M-Milord,” Laslow pants, but he isn’t sure what he wanted to say. He isn’t sure if he means to say anything at all. If he does, it is lost because Laslow’s head lulls back into the pillows and his back arches.

 

 _More, more, more_ , his climax is building and it’s making all of him tense. His toes curl and his legs twitch and he finds himself combing his fingers through Xander’s hair. “A- _ah!”_ His grip turns into a tug because Xander _smashes_ into his prostate.

 

They’re _electric_ like this. Laslow finds that he can’t push himself any closer to Xander, but he tries regardless. Xander’s breath is uneven. Laslow can hardly hear that over the sound of his own raised voice. “Milord, please, _please,_ Xander!”

 

Laslow begs for no reason. Xander gives him everything he asks without restraint. Laslow is building up to a crushing orgasm and with every slap of their bodies together he knows he won’t last much longer. Xander is so much. His cock is _impressive_ to say the least. This is more satisfying and full than Laslow’s fingers could ever be, no matter how lonely the night.

 

He’s already on the edge when there is a shift. A jarring shift of their weight and Xander moves so that he can stroke Laslow. He might have protested. There’s something very earth shattering about being brought to completion completely untouched. Then again, _this_ is also nice. _This_ is knowing well and good that his liege is near his breaking point. This is knowing that Xander _wants Laslow to come first_.

 

Maybe Laslow would have it in him to try and challenge that on another day, but on _this day_ he is tired and desperate and blanketed with warmth and heat and _love_ and so he lets himself fall. His head first, it falls into the pillows and his hips rise to meet one last thrust before it’s over. Laslow’s voice raises in a pleasured wail and he comes between them. He means to let go of Xander’s hair, he does, but he pulls down hard instead, tugs at his curls until Xander moans too. Laslow can’t be fooled to believe he doesn’t like it, at least a little.

 

He knows Xander comes shortly after. He knows it because his breath gets frenzied and his rhythm is gone, and now that Laslow has been spent he doesn’t hesitate to shift him exactly how he likes. He pushes Laslow’s leg back just a bit farther, and the leg that once was wrapped over Xander’s hip falls pathetically to the bed while Xander finishes…

 

…And when he does, Laslow is drowsy. He shifts his focus from pulling Xander close to him to combing his fingers more gently through his hair, and they breathe in silence for a few seconds before Xander lies down beside Laslow. He starts rubbing gentle circles into the skin of his thighs, and his hips, as if he’s trying to work out soreness before it sets in. Laslow smiles and slips his eyes shut. He could fall asleep.

 

He needs to go back to his room, realistically, but he doesn’t intend to. He can feel in the way he’s touched that Xander won’t let him leave if he wanted to. He doesn’t want to. He lays on his side with his back to Xander, and his liege is generous with him. He kisses over his back, his lips are hot and soothing, and his hands rubbing and gliding past his skin and the curve of his back are a lullaby. And then… Then Xander’s voice, drowsy as well, cuts through the silence. “I am glad you’ve come home, Laslow.”

 

Laslow means to say he is glad to be back, he truly does. He even imagines it, in his head, dreams the words come out of his mouth… but he forgets to say them out loud, and when Xander shifts his arms to hold him tight Laslow’s exhaustion catches up and he slips away to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so sorry if there are a lot of errors it's late and i'm awful at editing lets just come to terms with that. i ran it thru spellcheck at least.


End file.
